


Talent Swap Tales

by writerkat



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Babies, Child Abandonment, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Organized Crime, Yakuza style violence, briefly described mutilation, referenced violence against babies, talent swap AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerkat/pseuds/writerkat
Summary: A series of drabbles from my personal Talent Swap AU.Present Talents:Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu - Ultimate SwordsmanPeko Pekoyama - Ultimate Yakuza





	Talent Swap Tales

The face that reflected off his sunglasses was an unpleasant one to behold. Not ugly, per say. More… pathetic. Weasely. The sort of face that would beg to borrow a sum of money that would never be returned.

Which was, in reality, the reason the two of them were there at all.

Well, the two of them, plus the number of underlings who stood behind him, presumably glaring at this pathetic man behind their matching glasses. (His own pair were custom. Being even slightly higher up the food chain had its perks.)

"This is it, then?" He asked coldly.

The weasely man, Kuzuryu, as his debt papers said, nodded shakily, beseechingly.

"Th-that's right, sir. Just as promised. We're glad to give it to you. My wife and I got no use for it anyway. But I'm sure you will."

In his arms, he awkwardly held a bundle in a clean, though slightly ratty, blanket. The awkwardness of the hold came from the state of his hands. On his right, Kuzuryu was missing all of his pinky and his ring finger up to the second knuckle; on the left, his index finger and the top part of his middle just beyond where the nail would be if it were still there. Which it was not. He knew that well enough, having taken the knife to Kuzuryu's finger himself that time for yet another late repayment.

Such a motley assortment of mangled fingers made it awkward for Kuzuryu to hold, but that mattered little as the bundle was handed off to one of the underlings who stoically relived the mutilated hands of their burden.

He nodded to the underling, who unwrapped the bundle as Kuzuryu looked on nervously. As he should be. From within the blanket, a small, sleeping face peeked out. The baby, likely no more than a few months old, was sound asleep. Blissfully unaware of its role in the transaction taking place.

"It's a boy," Kuzuryu offered up uselessly. It's healthy enough. We kept it warm and fed and all that…" He withered even when the direct heat of the gazes on him were behind the expressionless shades of the many dangerous individuals around him. "So… That's enough to cover it, right? With the interest too? I mean, I doubt you'll find a lot of good baby organs on the market, some mooks are bound to pay good money to get their baby a new set of lungs or a heart… Right?" That final word emerged as a pitiful whimper. 

"It will do." The yakuza motioned to the black car behind them and his underling carried the babe to the vehicle. Disappearing within the dark shine and tinted windows. "Your debt has been paid, Mr. Kuzuryu. Be grateful the master was feeling generous lately." He glared behind his glasses. "Do not give us reason to confront you like this again."

"Un… understood," the man quailed once again under the stare. He quickly got the hint and scurried away like the worthless rodent he was. Not even sparing a glance back for the child he had left behind. 

The yakuza sniffed with disgust and made his way back to the car. Sliding into the back while his driver and one of his underlings slid into the seats up front. Beside him, the man with the baby was sitting stoically. The car started up with a rumbling purr so gentle the baby didn't even stir, and they glided out onto a side street back towards the hide out.

The yakuza pulled out his phone and texted to one of the others of his rank, letting them know that he had collected and was taking the goods to be dropped off. Just as he hit send, though, his phone began to vibrate in his hand, lighting up with the name of a superior of his. In a practiced motion he slid the phone into his palm and hit the green button to allow the call through the line.

"Sir?" He asked respectfully. This one didn't care for long greetings. He liked to get straight to the point.

"Where are you right now?" The voice on the other end was older, rougher, familiar. A voice he had heard talk with a gruff calm as he threatened a man's wife in front of him as well as deferential respect worthy of calling the old man a gentleman.

"Returning from a collection," he replied. "Paid in live goods. I'll return to the hide out once I drop it off."

"I know what you have. That's why there's a change of plans."

"Sir?" The word was colored by confusion now. Changes in plan weren't the norm for people like them. A change in plan usually meant someone had died. Or was about to.

"Return right to the main house. Now. Bring it with you. Be here in ten minutes or it's your ass." The call cut abruptly, and he pocketed his phone with a sigh.

He relayed the message to his driver, who understood the urgency even through the silky calm tone through which the order was delayed.

With the several red lights that were going to be run that night, they would most likely be there in six.

\--

The grand compound, formally known as the Pekoyama syndicate's headquarters, informally as the Pekoyama household, welcomed him and his men into it's reaches with all the welcoming comfort of a gargantuan danger monster snaking its slimy tongue around them and pulling them down it's throat. At the very least the perfume scented flowers planted around the compound made the descent into the belly of the beast pleasant to one sense.

The yakuza tread down the grand, well polished halls with all the seriousness of a man on death row. If he made one slip, he may as well be by the end of the night. The baby was in his own arms now, as he was not allowed to bring in his own men with him. Being directed by one of the many servants, he arrived. Carefully, he knocked on the wall beside the door. Not two seconds later it slid open, and he was face to face with a set of narrowed, glowing red eyes.

Master Pekoyama was known throughout Japan as a harsh, ruthless yakuza boss. Perhaps the only other person able to stand eye to eye with him in terms of influence and power was his own wife. Which, in all likelihood, was a big part of why the two seemed always ready to gouge out one another's eyes in their common… marital disputes. The tail end of one of which it appeared he had just walked in on. Given the heavily bloody handkerchief that the boss was holding to his cheek. Behind him in the room, it seemed the mistress had not escaped unscathed either. As she was presently binding one of her bloody arms with an expression as casual as one of a person clipping a particularly annoying hangnail.

"So, you have it, then?"

"Yes, boss. Right here." He hefted his burden to show off the baby, proving he was at least competent enough to know what was wanted of him.

"Well. Come in, then. We don't have all night." Pekoyama turned his back on the man and strode back into the room, leaving the yakuza to enter and close the door on his own. He stood there silently, waiting to be addressed as the boss pulled a clean handkerchief out of a drawer somewhere. In the brief moment between the bloody one being tossed in the trash and the clean one being pressed in its place, he caught a glimpse of the deep, bleeding wound that went down his cheek. Almost dead center to an older one left by the lady of the house, forming a perfect X on his cheek.

"I don't have a ton of time tonight, so I will be brief," Pekoyama began shortly. "My wife and I will be taking that baby." The yakuza was grateful for his glasses, undoubtedly saving him from some punishment expressing his surprise with widened eyes at the statement. "Our daughter is old enough we're pretty sure nothing is going to kill her all of a sudden. We'll be getting a head start on acquiring her a bodyguard. We're laying low on the organ operations for now anyway."

Coming from a man who treated a deep wound to his face with all the impassiveness one would treat a shallow nick from a razor, hearing him speak so casually of such matters did not come as a shock.

"Just put it down over there." The lady of the house finally spoke, pointing to a crib shoved into a corner of the room. Needing no further order, the yakuza went to the crib and looked in.

Laying on her back, staring straight at him, was another set of eyes as blood red as those that had glared at him when he entered the room. Her sparse silvery hair he recognized from her mother. As if someone had shaved off the thinnest possible strands off a bar of new platinum and made it into hair for this baby.

The baby in his arms he unrolled from the blanket and placed down next to the young heiress to the Pekoyama family. The adorable heiress looked to her left where he had been laid down, babbling softly toward the new thing within her space. 

At last, as if waiting for a cue upon which to act, the baby Kuzuryu opened his eyes. Revealing a mellow golden color the same as his hair. He seemed confused, though not unhappy. Looking around until he saw the baby beside him. The baby heiress babbled at him, and soon he began to babble back. Moving his arms and clutching his tiny fists until he at last managed to latch on to the baby girl's traditional style baby clothes.

"I suppose this will do," Lady Pekoyama said as she gazed over the children. "Does it have a name?"

"None that I was given, ma'am," the yakuza replied. "Only the family name, Kuzuryu. And that it's a boy."

"A boy. I see… very well. We'll name him "Fuyuhiko". That was the name of my first bodyguard. It will do for this one." She turned fully away from the yakuza and he took the silent dismissal. He bowed to the both of them and retreated back out the door as Lady Pekoyama returned to languishing in her seat. Meanwhile, Master Pekoyama walked to the crib himself, surveying the now smiling babies babbling nonsense at one another in the crib.

"Very well. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. This girl is Peko Pekoyama. Our only heir to the Pekoyama clan. One day, you will guard her with your life. This is our order to you. To serve her as your master for as long as you draw breath."

Baby Fuyuhiko, of course, had no clue what was being said to him. And neither did Peko. All they could do was hold on to one another, communicating and greeting each other as only two babies could.

Unaware of the long fate of hardships these words sealed for them both. 

 

\----

 

It wasn't until two years later that the Pekoyama family came upon some troubling news.

One of their rival factions' only heir died recently due to a lack of necessary organs readily available for transplantation after getting shot in the liver. 

This news in itself was not troubling. This family was a thorn in their side for quite some time and they were more than glad to see their family line come to a sudden halt in a bloody show of violence.

The issue came in concern to their own daughter. Peko was their one and only heiress to the title of boss of the Pekoyama family. Certainly they could conceivably  _ try _ to have another child. But given their track record, it was highly doubtful that both the Pekoyama patriarch  _ and _ matriarch would come out of the endeavor alive. The solution, then, was obvious.

A living donor. Someone who would always stay by their daughter's side and act as an emergency donor should the situation ever occur.

It would be better to be a girl, they decided. Though Fuyuhiko could act as Peko's bodyguard with no issue, it was still likely better for her to have a maid as well. To help her keep up appearances and maintain her poise. It would help having eyes and ears among both her male  _ and _ female students, given the different topics shared among both. Given all this, all they needed was to find someone with young Peko's blood type who could be declared a suitable organ donor for her.

The answer to this desire came in the form of a phone call.

\--

"Boss. You know how you've been looking for some more… help, for the young lady? I believe I've found just what you're looking for."

"Have you, now?" The Pekoyama patriarch reclined in his chair, one foot resting on the opposite knee in a show of relaxed swagger and confidence. Even though his underling couldn't see it when they were only talking over the phone. "And just where did you find such a thing?"

"Debt collection. Some drunken morons were late on paying, and when we came to collect they offered to sell us their baby to pay it off. They were in so deep we killed them anyway. But before we… disposed of them, they said their daughter was an O positive. Like the young lady. Took it to the hospital just to be sure, and looks like it may well be a viable thing."

"... Bring it here when you're done. We'll discuss this further, then."

"Understood, boss. I'll get right on it."

The phone call ended as abruptly as it began. The patriarch set down his foot and picked up the paper he had put down to take the call.

"Who was that?" His wife asked without looking up from the stack of letters she was opening and reading.

"One of our men. Seems they found a suitable donor for Peko."

"Ah, excellent," she said flatly. "A girl?"

"A girl," he confirmed.

"Got a name?"

"Not so far as I know… Natsumi would be fine, I think. It was my dog's name once."

"That's fine, I suppose."

The girl, as they came to find, was a child from the same couple who had sold off Fuyuhiko to them not two years previously. Making her the boy's sister. The coincidence was promptly ignored, as they settled the baby into the Pekoyama household. Already making plans for her, as with her brother, to serve the young heiress.

And thus, the final young fate tied to the Pekoyama family's legacy of crime was sealed.

**Author's Note:**

> I know that in canon Natsumi's blood type is AB like Fuyuhiko's, not O. It just fit in with the fic.


End file.
